Tears of a Child
by CheleCooke
Summary: Not for the first time since the Dark Mark had been burnt onto my skin I was having misgivings. The hairs on my neck standing on end and goose bumps erupting over my arms. This was wrong. Rabastan Lestrange Oneshot.


**Author's Note**

This one-shot was written in response to a challenge from the HPFF forums to write a story from the view of a Death Eater. My chosen Death Eater, Rabastan Lestrange. I've never written from Rabastan's point of view before, so I thought I would go for what most people know him for, Alice and Frank Longbottom's torture to insanity.

Anyway. I hope you enjoy it. Please leave reviews. I Love praise, enjoy and appreciate CC but hate flames, so make any insults have a point please. Come on, show the author some love. It's 6:35am.

Enjoy the story.

Chele

**The Tears of a Child**

There was a baby crying somewhere between the screams. Up the stairs, echoing through the floorboards. I was sure Bella was enjoying the mingled cries of an innocent with the screams of two Aurors. Barty was in his element for one so young, his face contorting in pleasure and his curses more powerful than even I had ever managed. The Auror Longbottom and his wife were writhing on the floor, Bella and Barty's curses unbroken in time or strength.

This was insanity. For Bella, maybe it was loyalty, to show the world that though the Dark Lord was gone, we would still continue his ways. Maybe it was Bella venting her frustrated anger at his loss. It was no secret her feelings for the Dark Lord were more than that of a loyal subject, even my brother knew. He hid it well; he'd always been good at hiding his feelings, like the rest of our family. He knew Bella married him for protection, to hold up her family's honour, but I made no mistake in thinking he went through with it for the same reasons. He thought I didn't know, but I'd seen the way he looked at her when we were at Hogwarts, the bossy and self-righteous girl two years younger than he. The first girl in decades to be allowed onto the Slytherin Quidditch team.

The baby cried out again, his mother's crying only stirring him on more. Bella cackled loudly.

"My son," she screamed from the floor. "my son!"

"Aww, poor mummy wants her baby." Bella laughed; her voice maniacal and high pitched.

Not for the first time since the Dark Mark had been burnt onto my skin I was having misgivings. The hairs on my neck standing on end and goose bumps erupting over my arms. This was wrong.

I'd wanted to join the Dark Lord. I'd wanted more than anything than to purge the world of the filth that infected and diseased our race. The Mudbloods didn't deserve our gift; they had not worked tirelessly for generations on perfecting our knowledge, ensuring our survival. It was an act of madness to give them our power, and even greater madness for sharing it with them when upstanding witches and wizards bred with the filth, creating crossbreeds and substandard wizards.

But this?

Alice and Frank Longbottom were pureblooded, their families as powerful and influential as any in our community. Why were we torturing them for information of our lost Lord, while their baby son, another gift to our community, cried in his nursery?

We couldn't bring back the Dark Lord, I think even Bella knew it on some level. His absence was not one of choice, but one of force. He would not be returning to us soon, he would not praise for our actions. There would be no silver lining to the cloud we were quickly creating.

The Aurors screams were becoming less pronounced. Their strain cracked voices fading into the night. Her eyes were glassy, his mouth agape. I closed my eyes and thought of other things. My brother protecting me from the Muggle bullies down the road from our house. It was their screams I was hearing as he punched them, their faces bloody and bruised. It was their screams, not the Aurors. It was their pitiful cries, not the baby upstairs. Would Bella kill the baby too? Would my brother's wife take joy in snuffing the life of one so young? I didn't know. I would never know.

o0o0o0o

My head lolled back and forth as the Dementors passed my cell. Barty's screams from the cell next to mine were echoing around the wet stone walls. The boy hadn't stopped crying since we got here, before that even. Bella, as expected, hadn't made a sound. My brother, I didn't know about my brother. I could hear muttering in the night that sounded like his voice but I couldn't tell anymore, couldn't distinguish his voice from the others.

My head hurts.

No comforting words now, huh big brother? No words to calm the cries of a scared child who had been hurt by an older kid from the village. No one to beat up now. No one to curse to make everything better.

Everything's blurry.

My mother's voice is in my head. Her quiet pleading when my father cursed her. She always did something wrong to him. Of course, she hid the marks. She played the dutiful wife well, the way Bella never did. She pretended it didn't happen, and we pretended we didn't know.

Please, not again.

I would crouch at the top of the stairs, my face pressed between the bars of the banister so hard that the marks lingered long after I had crept back to my room. Her voice would drift up like smoke through the air. The sound of flesh hitting flesh cracked like thunder. I choked back my sobs. I learnt quickly not to cry. Cry; and you get the same treatment. Cry; and maybe she gets worse treatment. I knew that all too well. That kid would know that all too well.

And the tears of that baby dripped through my mind.

Every day, no end.

The cries of that baby echoing in my head.


End file.
